Tag Archives: Mars

Coddle in Space now available to read on Headstuff.org!!!

Pigs in Space

Remember the Pigs in Space section on The Muppet Show?



Miss Piggy

Well, prepare thyself for the Irish version,

Coddle in Space.

If you’ve ever wondered what coddle on Mars would taste like, then wonder no more my friends.


Read my flash fiction of the Sci-Fi now on Headstuff!!!

In their Shot of Science Fiction Series.

Click the following link –


Spock Space Sausage

(and don’t forget my Type 2 Amber Brains from earlier in the year as well!)



Are you gonna bark all day little doggie or are you gonna bite?

happy cat

Rik V


Janey Macken Street Goes to Mars! Type 2 Amber Brains Now Available to read on Headstuff.org!

Ground control to Major Tom!

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A flash fiction of mine entitled, Type 2 Amber Brains, has been chosen as one of the runner-ups / honourable mentions in the Headstuff Mars Short Story Competition!!!

Read it at the below link.


As this has a Mars theme, and from one spaceman to another, there is only one person in the entire universe I can dedicate it to – the late, great David Bowie.

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“We can beat them forever and ever
Oh, we can be heroes, just for one day.”

So farewell then sweet spaceman
waiting in the sky.

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David Bowie is Brown Bread and I’m a blueberry Muffin

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happy cat

Planet Mars Bar Man with a Fish Finger for a Brain.


The What If Challenge this week was – What if you could live on another planet?

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Planet Mars Bar Man with a Fish Finger for a Brain.

There were tinselled cherries floating everywhere I looked. I couldn’t get them down and into my sister’s thirtieth birthday card fast enough, before they all popped their clogs in mid-air weasel-like. Right in my face. Pop goes the weasel. Crash. Pop goes the weasel. Bang. Pop goes the weasel. Wallop.


A big planet Mars bar of a man then awoke me out of this happy occupation with three loud knocks on the front door with the obscene notion – diktat more like – of me going to live on planet Mars for good.

I wanted to rip his sweet-wrapper of a head off its hinges, chew it slowly, and then spit it out through the open window and into the compost heap in the back garden. Couldn’t he see that I had a thirtieth birthday party to go to on Saturday? This coming Saturday? Why wasn’t he helping me capture all these about-to-pop tinselled cherries out of the fresh air and into my sister’s birthday card? Why? But big planet Mars Bar of a man wasn’t taking no for an answer.

I was going to Mars whether I liked it or not and he was flabbergasted that I wasn’t overjoyed at this prospect and hadn’t jumped over the moon already in anticipation.

‘You’ve won the lottery Flute Mouth. You’ve been selected to go to Mars. You’ll see another world.’


‘But my sister’s thirtieth is on Saturday!’

‘Mars for God’s sake! And call me Connie Wonnie please, I like you, Flute Mouth, I really do. You’ll travel through time and space. Pack up your gear please. You have to come with me now. Sorry, but you just have to.’

I hadn’t even entered the lottery for this one. I never would have dreamed of even filling out the form. Mars Bar, sorry, Connie Wonnie took his baseball bat out of his holdall and said –

‘Now Flute Mouth, no funny business. Come with me. Right?’

‘But it looks like my football team are going to win the league this year, in a few weeks time – for the first time in 14 years – I can’t miss that! I also need to visit my parents on a Saturday or a Sunday every fortnight for a few hours in the afternoon or else I crack up and start to itch and scratch other people’s faces off. You can’t have the likes of that on Mars now, can you? Me scratching top scientists’ and engineers’ faces into oblivion? That wouldn’t be a society conducive to starting a new civilisation now, would it?’

‘Stop this right now Flute Mouth. Mars! Haven’t you been listening to me at all? You’re getting up and out of this recessionary town and country and floating off into another bloody world! Don’t you get that?’

‘What’s so fantastic about that? Please tell me? So fantastic that I’ll have to give up my family, my friends, my interests, my life and all to colonise another planet and be a lonely skivvy to big-brained scientists and engineers 24-7! For God’s sake Connie-Wonnie you must think I‘ve got a fish finger for a brain. I’ll be wiping their arses on Mars – that’s what they’ll have me doing. I work in an office down here. What use me up there with the intelligentsia? Cop on and smell the roses! I’ll be their slave.’

‘The world is going to end in six months, haven’t you seen the television programmes like the rest of us? You’ll outlive planet earth. You’re getting out. You’re a lucky man, I wish -’

‘No. You wish nothing at all Connie-Wonnie. You’re wrong or a very sad man. I’m not going. When everyone press-ganged is shovelling ‘genius’ shit on Mars, the rest of us down here in reality land are going to be having the biggest party ever invented – or even partly invented -for if you thought about it entirely – you can’t – your head would explode with the blood rush. The party. Wash your exploded head-pieces out of your clothes and the walls of your sitting room with Omo extra strong dazzle.

‘The party down here will make this old world take off and be new again – change everything – and besides – even if we do all burn up I’ll be holding my true love’s hand and listening to my parents tell their stories of when they were growing up and listening to all the symphonies, melodies and literature of all the ages simultaneously as we all pop our clogs in beautiful synchronicity down here on planet earth, licking the flames as the tinselled cherries float around everything, through everything, between everything and ending everything with a popping kiss from my love.’

After this, Connie Wonnie was silent and acquiescent – “For I have a sister I wouldn’t ever want to leave for anything – even deep space. I know that now.”


We ran out the back door and over the back wall on our escape to the green glades of planet woods just out yonder some fifty metres away, but there were about twenty or thirty security planet Mars Bar  men with baseball bats waiting  to crack our heads unconscious and transport us to another planet before we opened our eyes to the light once again.


But love, but mother, but father, but sister, but brother, but friends – I’ll find a way to get back, somehow, if I can – stop myself from scratching down all these walls. Shovelling all this putrescence.  Fuck Mars. – Love and kisses forever. Flute Mouth.